


All My World Is In Your Arms

by inexplicifics



Series: The Accidental Warlord and His Pack [10]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics
Summary: Five times someone sees Milena and Lambert being unbearably sweet at each other, and one time nobody else sees them at all.
Relationships: Lambert (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Accidental Warlord and His Pack [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683661
Comments: 187
Kudos: 2766
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	All My World Is In Your Arms

**1\. Zofia**

“You don’t mind?” Zofia asks, dumping her armful of battered tunics on the chair beside Milena.

Milena smiles up at her, sweet as midsummer. “Truly I don’t. Mending is a very soothing occupation. Like meditation is for Witchers, as far as I can tell.”

“Huh,” Zofia says, and leans back against the wall, watching Milena’s needle flash as fast as any Witcher’s sword. “What’re you making?”

“A tunic for Lambert,” Milena says, cheeks pinking adorably, and spreads out the fabric so Zofia can see the bits she’s already finished. Zofia leans in and chuckles: the hem of the tunic is a riot of rosebushes, and peering through them here and there, amber-eyed wolves with very familiar scars.

“That’s very sweet,” Zofia admits. “Think he’ll wear it?”

“I’ll wear anything she makes me,” Lambert says, and Zofia jumps a little; she didn’t even hear the door open. Fucking Witchers. “Hey, Milena, tribute wagon had some bolts of silk. You want me to grab you some?”

“Yes, please,” Milena says, tilting her face up so Lambert can kiss her. He’s a lot sweeter about it than Zofia might have imagined, and the hand that brushes a lock of her hair out of her face is gentle as a breeze. “Green or blue by preference, but if there’s a good red, I would like that too.”

Lambert blinks at the wall for a moment and then says, “Fuck, you’d look good in red.”

Zofia snorts a bit at the expression on his face. Who’d’ve thought _Lambert_ , of all the prickly assholes in the world, could be this gone on a girl like Milena? Lambert jumps and glares at her, and scrubs a hand over his head. “Right, green or blue or red. I’ll have ‘em set aside for you.”

“Thank you,” Milena says, and Lambert bends and kisses her again and leaves as quietly as he came. Zofia grins at the expression of happy besottedness on Milena’s face.

“Wouldn’t’a believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” she says. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, girl.”

“I love him dearly,” Milena says, flushing pink again.

“Huh,” Zofia says. “I’m glad for you.” She is - she is _very_ glad. Milena should be happy, should be loved, and if Zofia would never in a million years have guessed Lambert could be so adoring and devoted, well - Milena’s as good at making people love her as Anna ever was, and that’s all there is to it.

“Thanks again for the mending,” Zofia says, and takes her leave.

*

**2\. Eskel**

“Right, so, first off, you don’t fucking drop the left strand,” Eskel hears, and pauses in the doorway to Ciri’s rooms, peering in cautiously. Milena is sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, sewing placidly. Lambert is standing behind her with Milena’s hair gathered up in his hands. Ciri is perched on another chair so she has a good vantage point, with Liliana sitting in front of her, hair loose and a wary expression on her face.

Eskel leans against the doorway to watch.

“See, that’s what your fucking little finger is for,” Lambert continues, wiggling the appropriate digit at Ciri, who giggles. “So you go like this, see, and then like _this_.”

“Do that again?” Ciri asks, and Lambert nods and combs Milena’s hair out with his fingers until it hangs loose again, then gathers it back up and repeats the movements slowly. “Got it,” Ciri says after a moment, and very carefully imitates Lambert with Liliana’s hair. It looks a little sloppy, but not bad, at least to Eskel’s untrained eyes. “Go on.”

“Right, so, then you pin that bit up,” Lambert says, and does so, using a sapphire-tipped pin that Eskel suspects is actually a stiletto. “You gotta be careful not to fucking stab her, yeah?” Ciri nods solemnly, and uses what Eskel is rather relieved to see is a wooden hairpin to do so. “And then you take the other bit on the other side, right, and you do the same fucking thing but _mirror_ it, yeah?”

“Show me,” Ciri says, and Lambert nods and does so, moving with slow and exaggerated motions so she can follow more easily. “Alright,” Ciri says, and turns to Liliana’s hair, tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrates.

“And then you’re going to take both bits and wind them together, yeah?” Lambert says, and does so with a practiced twist of his wrist, and pins the resulting elegant braided bun on the top of Milena’s head, where the sapphire-headed stiletto catches the light beautifully.

“Right!” Ciri says, and twists the two braids in Liliana’s hair together with a flourish, upon which she loses her grip and Liliana’s hair falls out of its twist into a loose tangle. “Oh. Fuck.”

Liliana squeaks with laughter.

“Sorry, Lili,” Ciri says sheepishly. “I’ll comb that back out and try again.”

“Hand me some mending first, please,” Liliana says. “If I’m going to be here a while, I can at least help Lady Milena a bit.”

“Here,” Milena says, passing a basket across. “Are you going to demonstrate with my hair again, Lambert?”

“Think I’d better,” Lambert grumbles, but he’s grinning, and when she tilts her head back, he leans down and kisses her softly and thoroughly.

Eskel leaves them to it, smiling to himself.

*

**3\. Ciri**

Ciri props her chin on her hand and sighs a little as Lambert leads Milena out onto the dance floor. Liliana giggles. “They’re really cute,” she whispers, as Jas strikes up a lively tune and Lambert twirls Milena into the first movement, her skirt swirling out around their feet.

“Yeah,” Ciri agrees. Lambert curls his hands around Milena’s waist, nearly spanning it, and lifts her into a whirl, and Milena laughs in sheer delight. He puts her down again very gently, and Milena twirls away for a moment and then back into his arms, beaming up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes gleaming. Lambert is grinning, too, wider than Ciri can remember him doing _ever_ before Milena came to Kaer Morhen, without any edges to it, no sharp sarcasm or bitter humor.

“Someday,” Liliana says, “I hope you find a partner who looks at you like that.”

Ciri nods. She knows from Milena’s lessons that princesses don’t often have a choice in who they marry, but she’s made up her mind: no matter who comes to court her, she’s never going to marry until and unless she, too, finds someone as devoted to her as Jas and Uncle Eskel are to her Papa, or as Lambert is to Milena.

Out on the dance floor, the music comes to an end, and Lambert bends Milena back over his arm in a deep dip, taking her full weight easily. Milena leans into his grip fearlessly, and loops an arm around his neck to draw him down into a deep kiss. Several other Witchers whoop and whistle, and Lambert makes an obscene gesture with his free hand without breaking the kiss. Liliana squeaks and covers her eyes. She hasn’t really gotten used to Lambert yet. To be fair, he _is_ definitely what Jas calls an acquired taste.

Jas starts another tune, and Lambert swings Milena back up onto her feet and into the dance with a flourish. Ciri bounces to her feet and holds out a hand to her Papa. “Dance with me?”

“Yes, cub,” her Papa rumbles, and follows her out onto the dance floor with an indulgent smile.

*

**4\. Jaskier**

Jaskier pokes his head into the salle and stops dead, staring. Milena is sitting on one of the benches along the wall, and Lambert is stretched out along the bench with his head in her lap, eyes closed, a low noise like the purring of some enormous cat reverberating gently just at the edge of Jaskier’s hearing. Milena is stroking his hair gently. She looks up as the door opens and presses a finger to her lips, giving Jaskier a very stern look.

Jaskier mimes sleep and raises an eyebrow; Milena nods. Jaskier grins and clutches both hands to his chest, miming a swoon at the sheer adorableness of it, and then very carefully backs out of the salle and closes the door as quietly as he can.

And then he goes up to find Eskel in his office, and drapes himself over his lover’s lap, muffling a soft cooing noise against Eskel’s throat. Eskel obligingly loops an arm around his waist and nuzzles his hair. “What’s got into you today, catmint?”

“Lambert and Milena being _fucking adorable_ ,” Jaskier admits. “He was _sleeping in her lap_ , Eskel. I can’t even - oh, there’s something in that, the sleeping wolf beneath the swan’s white wings -”

Eskel laughs, soft and fond. “Lambert would hunt you through the keep if you sang it.”

“Milena would protect me,” Jaskier says, grinning and settling in more comfortably. “Hmm. _The breeze upon the green grass blew / and the clouds like galleons crossed the sky / and the wolf slept on with ruffled fur / beneath the swan-maid’s wings so white…_ ”

*

**5\. Yennefer**

There’s almost never anyone in the library at this time of night, but Yennefer needs to look up the details of a particular curse from about a hundred and fifty years ago, and she knows she won’t sleep if she’s still worrying at the problem like a seed in her teeth. The book is, of course, at the very _back_ of the library, and she’s muttering quietly to herself in mild annoyance - mostly at herself - when she rounds a corner and sees Lambert and Milena.

Lambert has picked Milena up, both hands around her waist, and is holding her above his head so she can scan the top shelf; her skirts are covering his face. Yennefer pauses in the shadow of a shelf and watches, deeply amused. Milena trails her fingers along the books for a long moment and then says, “Aha!” and takes one off the shelf. “Got it!”

“Right,” Lambert grunts, and lowers her slowly back to the floor. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she turns to face him, and Lambert grins down at her and moves his hands from her waist to the shelf behind her. Milena leans back against it and smiles up at him.

“Thank you,” she says softly, and Lambert leans down and kisses her, soft and sweet and gentle as Yennefer has never seen him with _anyone_ else, not even Ciri.

“You’re not heavy,” he says at last, pulling away just far enough to brush a kiss against the tip of Milena’s nose, and Milena giggles.

“My big strong Wolf,” she says fondly. “Well, if I’m not heavy, then you can carry me off to bed, can’t you?”

“Fucking right I can,” Lambert growls, and scoops her up, and bears her off triumphantly.

Yennefer politely waits until they’ve left the library to double over with laughter.

*

**+1. Milena**

It’s well past midnight, and the hot springs are nearly deserted, almost all the lanterns long since blown out. Lambert has chosen one of the smaller, more secluded pools, and is sprawled on the stone seat, head fallen back, hands clutching at the edge. Milena is straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, and his prick is hotter than the water as she sinks slowly down onto it.

“Fuck, Milena,” Lambert rasps, quiet enough that Milena can barely hear him.

Milena grins and braces her hands on his shoulders and starts to rock her hips, so slowly the water barely even sloshes, and Lambert whimpers very softly. Gods - Milena wants to find every woman who ever warned her that her conjugal duties would be unpleasant chores, to be endured rather than enjoyed, and tell them to their faces how very wrong they were. How much _pleasure_ there is in bedsport, how much laughter and joy. Though admittedly most other men are not so sweet as her darling Lambert. Perhaps she should pity those who warned her so solemnly.

Perhaps she should not even bother thinking of them, not right now, not when she has her Witcher spread out below her like a feast. She bends her head and kisses the bared line of his throat, and Lambert gasps and his hips rock up, sharp and startling. She moans, and Lambert raises one hand and laces it very gently through her hair, slides the other into the water and curls his arm around her waist, and lifts his head to kiss her, soft and slow and gentle and easy.

And then he grins against her lips, and pulls her close, and thrusts his hips up again, sinking even deeper into her. Milena squeaks and clutches harder at his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and thrusts again. “I’ve got you, Milena.”

“Yes,” Milena whispers, letting her head fall back to give him her throat, trusting her weight to him, trusting _everything_ to him. “Yes, my love, you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still working on anything with plot, so have some fluff in the meantime!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] All My World Is In Your Arms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503638) by [AceOfTigers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfTigers/pseuds/AceOfTigers)




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